


Follow you into the dark

by anniebrackett



Category: Halloween (2007), Halloween II (2009) Theatrical, Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniebrackett/pseuds/anniebrackett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Losing her, the only one who's ever known who I am, who I'm not, and who I wanna be."</p><p>A short oneshot looking at the theatrical ending of Halloween II. Survivor Laurie dealing with a dead Annie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow you into the dark

Whenever Laurie manages to piece together a moment of clarity, she finds herself thinking about all the little things that made up Annie. How she brushed her teeth with warm water and got sad when it rained. How she would subconsciously mouth the words of whatever she was reading and hated cigarettes but smoked before things that made her nervous (job interviews, first dates, class presentations).

When the moment ends, and she starts to teeter back on the edge of sanity, right before the white horse shows up along with the nurses with needles, she remembers all the substantial things about Annie. How she never talked about her mother because she was terrified she’d turn out like her, dead before thirty. How she cried the first time they slept together (happy, confused tears, she had assured her). How she swore she was going to marry Laurie when they were both older and more put-together. How she looked when she slipped away.

 

* * *

 

She isn’t considered stable enough to go out of the white room, and there isn’t much to do besides sleep, so she makes a ritual out of sitting at the end of the bed and talking to Annie for hours. Sometimes it’s just mindless one sided chit-chat, but most of the time it’s daily updates.

“Your dad came by today,” she’s starting to pick a hole in the starchy sheets. “He brought me a picture of us to try and keep me going, I guess. It’s that one from my birthday after I moved in, when you leaned over my shoulder before I blew out the candles. I wish I could remember what you told me to wish for.”

 

* * *

 

Dr. Collier is one of her assigned psychiatrists. Normally, she wouldn’t work in the hospital, but Laurie requested it and Sheriff Brackett made it happen, pushing the fact that she’s familiar with Laurie’s mental state leading up to the second massacre. She visits once a week, tries her best to make Laurie feel more comfortable, and Laurie fills Annie in as soon as the door shuts behind her.

“I don’t think I’m crazy like he was, but the doctors do.”

 

* * *

 

“I saw the horse again today. I think the woman wants me to go with her, but I want to be with you.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m really starting to hate the color white.”

 

* * *

 

“Winter isn’t even over yet and they’ve already stopped checking to see if I take my pills. They just slip the fucking cup through the door, that’s it.” Her sheets are on the floor; she’s shouting out her grievances into thin air, pacing around the room.

She breathes in, and then slowly out, her hands shaking, before she quietly asks, “You wouldn’t give up on me like that, would you?”

 

* * *

 

“Hey Annie, you know how we talked about my, uh, issues after everything happened? And you made me promise to never, ever do anything?” She pauses, as if the brunette is there with a response. “Well I’ve been keeping all the pills in my pillowcase. I think I’m going to hold onto them for a bit longer, though, and see if it gets any better here.”

 

* * *

 

“No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the feeling that I should have died with you. I guess it would’ve been romantic in a completely fucked up way.”

The hole in the sheet is taking up a majority of her lap at this point, and she pauses her picking to release a breathy laugh before turning serious. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.”

 

* * *

 

"I miss you," she murmurs, dragging her finger along the edge of the pillowcase. "I miss you so much it hurts."

 

* * *

 

“I’ll see you soon, baby.”


End file.
